(Scene — B.A.M. Intelligence Division, 2:17 AM)
The corridors of the B.A.M. command wing hummed with quiet energy — low lights, screens flickering, the constant whisper of encrypted comms. Lieutenant Mara Venn, sharp-eyed and steady, moved through the hall with a datapad tucked under her arm.
Her mind, though disciplined, wasn't still. The moment General Soren had spoken earlier — "The King doesn't leave fingerprints… he leaves messages" — kept echoing in her head.
Mara had served under Soren for years. She respected him, feared him a little, but tonight something felt different.
She'd seen the flicker in his eyes — admiration mixed with a trace of unease. The kind only Chris Blackwood could inspire.
She reached her station, the screen lighting up with intel feeds from the Rhoan estate — security footage, chatter logs, sensor data. All clean. Too clean.
Mara (thinking):
"No camera caught him. No signature energy trace. No vehicle departure log. It's like he vanished… like a ghost."
Her lips curved slightly.
Mara (whispering to herself):
"Or a King who knows how to play ghost."
She tapped a command, opening a restricted channel — direct access to Soren's encrypted command log.
Inside was a single message, timestamped minutes after the ball:
> "All movement authorized. The throne plays tonight. Do not interfere." — C.B.
Mara froze.
Her pulse quickened, but she smiled faintly — that kind of smile soldiers wore when awe mixed with fear.
Mara (quietly):
"He told him. He tells him everything. Even his chaos is coordinated."
She leaned back in her chair, eyes tracing the lines of code, the silent empire breathing in digital form.
Then her gaze softened. She remembered the Queen — Amara Blackwood — her composure, her empathy, her quiet defiance. Mara had seen her once, months ago, giving orders in the courtyard while soldiers stood at full salute.
Mara (thinking):
"She's the only one who can stand beside him without trembling. And somehow, she makes even Soren bend without realizing it."
The comm unit on her desk beeped softly. Soren's voice filtered through, low and clipped:
Soren (through comm):
"Mara. Report."
Mara:
"No traces, sir. The Minister's security network shows nothing. Our King was there… but he left nothing behind."
A long silence. Then Soren's voice again, calm and final:
Soren:
"Good. Then it never happened. Lock it down. And Mara…"
Mara:
"Yes, sir?"
Soren:
"Learn from this night. In the Blackwood Empire, even shadows kneel."
The line went dead.
Mara exhaled slowly, turning her chair toward the massive window overlooking the capital — the sleepless city glowing under the moon.
Mara (softly):
"Even shadows kneel… but some of us learn to rise within them."
She closed the screen, eyes gleaming with silent resolve.
Somewhere deep inside, a spark lit — not rebellion, not ambition… but curiosity.
About the man behind the crown.
About the woman beside him.
And about what would happen if the empire's perfect order ever cracked.